


Failure

by KhajiitSicario



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Angst, Ben Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Diego Hargreeves is an ass, F/M, Klaus Hargreeves is a Brat, Luther Hargreeves Being an Asshole, Most of the siblings hate us, Not Crossposted, POV First Person, Reader Has Powers, Reader Needs a Hug, Reader is a school teacher, Reader is healer, They all need hugs, We Die Like Men, We couldn't save him, ben is still dead, fight me, im sorry, this is gonna suck
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:21:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27011158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KhajiitSicario/pseuds/KhajiitSicario
Summary: As Number 8 of the Umbrella Academy, you were the healer. Any good team needs a healer, after all. You had the ability to use your energy to heal others, as well as the ability to take energy, exhausting your opponent and giving you more energy, which you could then use to heal. This ability served you well for years, healing the team mission after mission and pushing your limits to new heights.Until, one day, you failed.Now, years after your biggest failure, you were called home once more, forced to face the past, and deal with the looming tragedy that is your future.
Relationships: Allison Hargreeves/Luther Hargreeves, Ben Hargreeves/Reader, Diego Hargreeves/Eudora Patch, klaus hargreeves - Relationship
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	Failure

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, been a bit since I posted anything. This is one of those stories that hit me while I was at work, but I was never able to work on it until now. This is going to be a bit weird, as the one in the pairing is dead, and will be for a while, except in flashbacks, but hopefully, you will bear with me on this. Updates will come whenever inspiration strikes, so we shall see how that goes.

I sat back on the couch, removing my glasses and rubbing my eyes, feeling relieved at the stack of finished papers in front of me. Second graders got really creative with their stories, I had to give them that. With a glance up at the clock, I stood, stretching my back and shuffling to the kitchen while flipping on the television. I scoured my cupboards, looking for something easy to make as I unwound from the day before I heard the celebrity news come on.

  
Ordinarily, I would pay much attention to the gossip of 'Hollywood's Finest', but I remembered that my sister had an event tonight. Allison had had a rather rough go of things lately, and I felt I should support her, even if it was from a distance. So, I grabbed the box of cinnamon Life cereal from the top of the fridge, reaching in to grab a quart of milk, and sat back on the couch, setting them on my coffee table and reclining enough to feel a vertebra pop before relaxing. Only to sit straight at the top story broadcasting through my screen.

  
"Reginald Hargreeves Dead". I felt an odd chill creep into my bones. The newscaster claimed he had died of heart failure, and, while I was skeptical, I also knew he was fairly old, and it wasn't completely outside the realm of possibility. Like most of my siblings, I had pondered over the years when my father would finally kick the bucket, but it had always been just that. Thoughts, just meaningless musings that, except for a few, choice occasions, never really held any real weight to them. Now that he was actually gone, I didn’t know how to feel.

A strange numbness crept over me as I picked up my phone to call my boss, my voice oddly steady as I informed him I wouldn't be at work for a few days. He understood and told me to let him know if I needed more time. I got up and trudged, almost in a trance, to my bedroom, where I pulled out a small suitcase and packed a few sets of clothes, along with a few toiletries. I was in a daze as I walked out the door, hailed a taxi, and told him the address. Somewhere in my subconscious, a little voice was warning me about how expensive a ride this long would be, but I couldn’t quite bring myself to care. I leaned my head against the window, watching the lights fly by, barely feeling the chill of the glass as I mentally prepared myself for the inevitable onslaught of tension waiting for me in the cold, cruel place I used to call home.


End file.
